


Keep Talking

by antigrav_vector



Series: 890fifth prompt fills [6]
Category: Captain America (MCU), Iron Man (Comics), Iron Man (MCU), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: 890fifth, Alternate Universe, Canon Divergence, Gen, Pre-Slash, Some feels, borrows from both movie and comics canons, mixing and matching of MCU canon and timelines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 12:05:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5743204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antigrav_vector/pseuds/antigrav_vector
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony could always tell when Steve felt awkward around him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep Talking

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta read. 
> 
> Fills the round twelve 890Fifth prompt 'He liked shoptalk. It relaxed him.'

Tony could always tell when Steve felt awkward around him. He had this way of subtly tensing, his shoulders coming up just the slightest bit and his hands reaching out for something to grip.

At first he'd attributed it to anger, but once he'd had a chance to gather a bigger sample set of expressions he'd realised just how wrong he was. It had taken him a while, but Tony thought he'd finally more or less pegged Steve's reactions to him: awkwardness, attraction, and fond exasperation. More or less in equal measure.

And, he couldn't be totally sure, but it seemed to intensify anytime he started talking about science.

Of course, that would be difficult to test when Steve was avoiding him and seeking him out by turns.

But then, he wasn't Tony Stark for nothing. He lasted all of a week in the face of this 'will he, won't he' nonsense. For all his confidence on the battlefield, Steve was terrible when faced with something like personal attraction. He'd heard all about Steve's two left feet from Aunt Peggy. And occasionally his dad, when the latter could be persuaded to talk about Steve without either going off on a tangent about how Tony should aspire to be like him or getting too drunk to care what Tony wanted to know.

And, yes, it had taken Tony a while to get over the painful memories to enough of an extent to return the interest Steve was showing, but he managed to get himself more or less reconciled to the feelings just in time for one more of Steve's 'avoid Tony' periods.

His patience with that state of affairs ran out pretty quickly, though. Yeah, Tony knew he wasn't the most patient person. And, yes, it had gotten him into trouble more often than not. But it was a fully ingrained aspect of his personality, meantime, and he used it to his advantage.

Once he'd decided to do so, it didn't take long to track Steve down. Tony found him in the communal gym, and made sure no one was around.

"Hey," he called out.

Steve stopped in his tracks, missing his opening to hit the heavy bag and keep it from swinging back to hit his torso. Rather than fight it, he wrapped his arms around the bag and steadied it before he turned to face Tony. "Something wrong?"

Tony didn't answer verbally, stalking over to his erstwhile team leader and sometime friend.

Steve watched him carefully, almost warily. "Tony?"

"You know," Tony opened, "one of these days, I need to get around to building you that upgraded heavy bag. The one with the repulsor-driven mag lev system that would give you more of a workout."

Staring him down, Steve shook his head. "You really don't have to do that. You've already given me-- _us_ so much."

"I'm not sure you quite understand," Tony shot back, stepping in close and forcing Steve to take a half step back if he wanted to maintain his personal space. "It'd be the perfect stress test for the system. I need data, and getting you to punch the thing would be just about enough to work with for the next iteration. After the requisite data transforms and statistical testing."

"Tony, why are you standing so close?" Steve tried to back away again, but was brought up short when his back hit the still-swinging heavy bag.

"I've got a hypothesis to test," Tony smirked, and watched the emotions flit across Steve's features: surprise, curiousity, wariness.

"What's that?"

"Well," Tony brought up a hand to rest innocently on Steve's shoulder. "You see, Cap," the hand wandered just slightly lower, "something tells me that you might be, hmm, how shall I put this," Tony paused to pretend to think and let his hand slip down to rest on Steve's chest, "up to the challenge."

Steve looked like a deer in headlights. "What challenge?"

Perfect. "Testing out the planar motion resistance sensors I want to put in that heavy bag I'm designing for you. Come on, keep up."

"Right, sure."

Smirking, Tony brought his other hand up, now, mirroring the position of his left hand with his right. "And, of course, there's also the little problem of the sparring ring."

"Tony, if I've said this once, I've said it a thousand times: we don't need a sparring ring."

Suddenly tired of the indirect approach, Tony settled for blatant. "But if we don't have one, that takes away half my excuses to get my hands all over you."

"What?" Steve stared at him blankly.

"Queen's English not good enough anymore? I've hinted and I've tried subtle. I'm tired of it." Tony let his hands drift down Steve's front, only stopping once they were suggestively low over Steve's hips. "Are you interested, yes or no?"

"What exactly are you offering?"

"One night, if that's all you want. More if that's something you like the sound of."

Steve took a step back, clearly unsure. Tony let his hands drop. "And what do you want?"

"I want whatever I can get," Tony replied with a shrug. "I wouldn't have offered anything long term if I didn't want it."

"You-- I--"

Tony huffed, amused by the stuttering response. It wasn't often he saw Steve so totally off balance. And that was what made his decision for him, really. Tony knew he was a lot of things, most of them reprehensible in one way or another, but he didn't coerce anyone into his bed. "Tell you what. You look like you got slapped with a fish. Think it over and tell me tomorrow." Turning, he waved over his shoulder as he left. "Good night, Steve."

Steve replied in kind, his tone still stunned. "Good night, Tony."

Surprisingly, Tony slept without tossing and turning that night. He shuffled into the kitchen the next morning blearily in search of coffee, driven primarily by force of habit. He was about halfway through his first cup when Steve appeared, a determined look on his face.

"Tony," he asked as he pried the mug out of Tony's hands and set it on the counter, "do you have a minute?"

"For what," he asked around a yawn and rubbing at his eyes.

"Come down to the workshop," Steve replied, vague and almost shifty. 

"Coffee first," Tony muttered, groping after his mug. Steve let him, refilling it and chivvying Tony out of the kitchen, still confused.

Tony tried to ignore the hand planted between his shoulderblades, steering him toward the elevator that led to his workshop. "You know," he tried, sipping his coffee, "you'd be a lot more likely to get what you wanted if you told me what it was."

Steve ignored him and pressed the elevator call button.

Tony couldn't help complaining at him some more. "That was so unnecessary. JARVIS calls the elevator for me automatically." It got him a subtle smirk, so he continued. "You didn't have to do that; he knew we wanted the elevator."

"I know."

A short silence fell. It didn't take long for Tony to get impatient. "Seriously, Rogers, what do you want from me?"

"Just keep talking."

Bewildered but oddly pleased, Tony gave in. He let Steve guide him into the elevator without protesting too much. "You are being the opposite of helpful, right now. I want you to know that."


End file.
